Let Anne Say
by annewithagee
Summary: Anne Shirley has never been one to throw swearwords around carelessly - but then again, we all slip sometimes. She just really isn't sure how to feel about the fact that whenever she does, Gilbert Blythe is there to listen. Shirbert, Modern AU.
1. Part 1

_Author's note: A tiny, tiny fic I wrote a while ago and completely forgot about it. It's almost frivolous but definitely was fun to write - and I hope it will make you smile while reading it, too. I really want to continue it (ideally, it would be a four-shot) but there are so many reasons against it, so I'll be grateful if you tell me whether or not you'd like to read more of these._

_Many thanks to Ten for (again!) proofreading the story for me - and to all of you for still sticking around._

_God bless you, Kindred Spirits,  
annewithagee_

* * *

**Part I**

"Fuck."

Gilbert Blythe winced as the word reached his ears and not only because he'd been surrounded by a nearly perfect silence of the Redmond library before. First, the silence was far from perfect – with the high school students visiting, wandering between the bookshelves, and gazing around as they learned about the rules set in that Holy Land of Books and Papers, he could hardly expect a moment of real peace. Besides, he was supposed to revise the material with Anne, so even when she didn't talk for a moment, he remained alert, ready to answer her doubts as soon as she voiced them.

No degree of vigilance could, however, make him ready for _that_.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" he asked, staring, with raised eyebrows, at his ginger-haired friend , a corner of his mouth twitching already. "I do not recollect making your acquaintance."

Anne glanced at him inattentively; she frowned at the sight of the silly expression he was wearing. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing; just pointing out how pleased I am to meet you now, Miss...?"

"What on – what's wrong with you?" the girl exclaimed, confused. The sudden move she made simultaneously resulted in both of her books and a notepad falling from the desk and hitting the ground with a loud thud. Anne was on her knees in a second. She looked up at her companion and hissed, "There's no one else in here, so who on earth are you talking to?"

"Why, you of course," he answered calmly, as if calling his best friend by some official title was a part of his everyday routine. "Although as I said, I can't say I recognise you as any of my many friends."

She grabbed her belongings and almost slammed them on top of the desk. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were shining already, as they did every time she felt at least a little bit agitated. She was more than that right now.

"Are you demented, Gil?" she quarried, staring him in the eye. "I'm not some strange, mysterious person. I'm _me_!"

"Anne, you just _swore_."

It is safe to say that she did not expect such an answer.

"What?" she asked after a few moments of silence and a few blinks of surprise. "And that's why you made me throw my books on the floor?"

"I didn't make you throw anything," he protested, "and it's not like you could blame me if I had. You almost gave me a heart attack with that spurt – you should be grateful I've decided to turn it into a joke instead of collapsing right at your feet."

"Gil, you're ridiculous."

"Anne, you're swearing."

"I'm not – ugh!" She groaned and hit the desk with her forehead, covering her head with her arms right after. "I've said it _once _in your presence, right _now_. What's the big deal? We're adults, for goodness' sake. A few bad words here and there won't kill anyone, will they?"

"Your usual language policy says otherwise – wait, what do you mean 'in my presence'? You want to tell me you do it more often when I'm not around?"

"I don't. But I won't pretend I hadn't slipped a few times."

"_Oh_, _dear_," Gilbert sighed emphatically, his voice significantly higher, and clasped his hand together as if he really was one of those 19th century ladies he was trying to (poorly) reenact. "Does that mean you _can_ swear? As in, different than the 'I take thee to be my bosom friend' kind of swearing? Wait, don't tell me; I'm not sure I'm ready to learn the answer to that."

"Of course I _can_, you idiot," Anne replied mercilessly. Gilbert pressed his hand against his chest and raised his eyes to the ceiling in another mockery of a heart attack, a performance his friend chose to ignore. "I am a grown up student majoring in English, and believe it or not, swearing is actually a language phenomenon and can be extremely interesting when treated as such. Moreover – and that's another fact you may find incomprehensible – I am just a human being, and a hot-tempered one at that, and thus I sometimes fail to control my language in the ways I would wish to - no matter how determined I am not to let it happen in general."

She was gazing at him expectantly, daring him to contradict her again. He didn't, shaking his head and giving her a warm smile instead.

"That makes more sense than I thought it would, although it doesn't really take the shock away," he admitted. "But all that aside, what is it that made you swear in the first place? It must have been bad to make you react like this."

Anne sighed, suddenly remembering the reason for her initial distress and fixed her gaze on the book before her.

"I've just realised that I misunderstood Professor Atwell during the class last week, and consequently, I focused on the wrong parts of the material required for today's test. Which means, I'm going to fail. Tremendously. For sure." Her forehead hit the desk again. "_Fuck_."

Gilbert thought he really shouldn't laugh at her.

Oh well.


	2. Part 2

_Author's note: And here it is, the next part of this very silly story of mine. I made myself work on it today - and the good thing about this kind of stories is that it's possible to actually write an entire chapter in one go. Can you imagine?_

_Anyway, I really want to thank you for the kind words under the previous chapter and I hope you will find this one equally amusing, while I try to work on some other of my many, many Anne stories._

_God bless you all!  
annewithagee_

**Part 2**

* * *

"Oh for _fuck's sake_," Anne gritted her teeth in frustration before letting out a painful groan, caused by her most untimely grimace. Her hand was pressed against her cheek again, even though she had long lost her belief that it could easy the ache in the slightest.

And _ev__erything_ hurt.

"You're holding up there, Carrots?" Gilbert's voice came from the kitchen, resonating with the same kindness and consideration that she had come to know so well, and yet, she could hardly find it in herself to think very favourably of him now; then again, right now, she didn't really feel particularly affectionate towards any human being on this Earth. "I need another minute or two and I'll be there, or you can come here and take those pills on your own. So?"

"I'm not going anywhere," she muttered, her answer muffled by the pillow she had just thrust herself on. "I'm just gonna lie here until I die and then you'll have to deal with the corpse and – oh, _fuck!_"

"Now that's two swearwords in a row, Miss Shirley. I can't say I'm impressed," Gilbert commented jokingly as he finally entered the room and bestowed his gaze on his dearest Kindred Spirit's curled up form. He shook his head at her and sat carefully on the edge of the couch on which she was lying. And yet, his tone was gentle when he asked, "Is it really so bad?"

Anne mumbled something against the pillow, too quietly for him to make out any on the words she'd uttered.

He sighed wearily. "Anne, please, I'm trying to be helpful here. Does it really ache so much?"

"You ask that question one more time and I _swear_ I'll punch you," she retorted, jerking up her head and dropping it immediately after, her whole body tense with discomfort. "I hate toothaches."

"I know," he sighed again, putting the glass in his hand on the tea-table and reaching out to massage Anne's back soothingly. She remained silent and so did he, until he remembered that there were better ways than fighting physical pain than rubbing the shoulder blades of the patient, no matter how love-struck the physician might be; he grasped her by the elbows and pulled her up to the sitting position. "Come on, I brought you something for it. It will still take some time for it to work, so the sooner you take it, the better, right?"

"And what kind of medicine is that?" she asked hoarsely, blinking away the tears that had already managed to well up in her eyes.

"As far as I'm aware, there's only one working for you, isn't there?" he responded with a grin, waving the small package before her eyes.

She smiled genuinely at that."I thought all things ibuprofen were banned from your house," she attempted lightly.

Gilbert shrugged, his grin widening. "It's not _banned_, it just doesn't really work for us. We're a paracetamol kind of family, you see."

"Then how -"

"Well, let's say I like to be prepared for whenever my best friend decides to develop a serious aching as soon as she finds herself under my roof."

Anne could not help but chuckle a little at that, her gratitude and appreciation reflecting clearly in the depths of her grey-green eyes. She accepted the medicine he had offered to her with a nod and took the glass from the table. Her eyes were closed when she drank and remained so for a few moments after, as if she'd been trying to fortify herself for the time necessary for the painkiller to take effect. Another wave of ache overcame her, however, and she realised with dismay that it was still a little too much for her to handle.

Without much thinking, she turned towards Gilbert and buried her face in his neck, groaning with much more emotion that could have possibly been justified, even considering the pain she had been struggling with. Gilbert's arm came around her almost instinctively, as he smiled at her antics, holding her close to him and hoping that this insignificant gesture – insignificant to _her, _anyway – could indeed bring her the comfort she so desperately needed, while simultaneously battling his own desire to cup her face in his hands and simply kiss the pain away.

His heart skipped a beat when he felt her fingers tighten on the fabric of his shirt and it is highly possible he _would_ have caved then – but before he'd had a chance to do something so stupid as trying to make his ridiculous dream a reality, Anne spoke up, successfully rousing him from his meditations for good.

"You know what," she said against his collarbone, sending shivers down his spine. "Right now I could _swear_ that, save Diana, you're the best friend I've got in the entire _fucking _world. And don't you dare diminish the compliment by fighting me over the f word in it."

Gilbert could do little more than laugh at her confession, his arms tightening around her slim silhouette just a little bit more. It would be a good few minutes before the medicine she had taken would start to work and somehow, he knew that she would not try to pull away until it did; and as long as she was there, trusting in the safety of this perfectly_ unromantic _hug, he would not wish for anything else.

The best friend in the world was good enough for him now.


	3. Part 3

_Author's note: Hey, so remember when I said that the good thing about this story is that I can actually finish a chapter in a single day? Well, not this one, apparently. I am sorry for the delay - trust me though, no one is more vexed with how long it took than I am._

_I really hope you'll enjoy this chapter as much as the other two. I must say you've surprised me with your enthusiasm both times; but it was in the most positive way. I can also announce that there is only one chapter left after this one and hopefully, I'll manage to have it done soon and then move on to some other projects (as if working on eight fics simultaneously wasn't enough)._

_Either way, it's here. Thanks to all that have supported me so far and I hope you have fun!_

_Love, annewithagee_

**Part 3**

* * *

"A _fucking idiot_, that's what I am!" she cried out with exasperation, tears still glistening in her grey-green eyes as she glared at her loyal friend, who had been trying so unsuccessfully to comfort her for the past quarter.

Gilbert could do little else than sigh wearily at the performance.

"You know this isn't true, Miss Highest-Score-On-The-Island-Last-Year," he said firmly, rubbing his temples, slowly losing hope that his reasoning could be of any help after all. "You made a mistake, and that's true; it could have been avoided and that is true as well. But for the last time, Anne, it doesn't make you a fool."

"Yes! Yes it does!" she objected instantly. "Oh, don't you understand _anything_?"

"I understand that you have accidentally put one customer's coffee on another customer's tray and then _rushed towards their table_ with a speed of lighting as soon as you'd realised the mistake. You made it right long before either of those girls realised that there had been any mistake at all, not to mention that even if you hadn't, there would be next to no consequence – except maybe having to remake the order this once. Don't you think that maybe it's time to stop making it sound as if you'd killed someone in cold blood today?"

"You're impossible," Anne exclaimed again, burying her face in her hands, and nearly knocking her own tea with her elbow in the process. Gilbert reached out and moved the mug to a safer position, but said nothing. "And this whole situation is _unbelievable. _How can you not see that it was absolutely, entirely, doubtlessly my fault, all caused by my own cursed tendency to daydream? And that it shouldn't have been possible to even make such mistake, because the task was so silly, so _simple_. And goodness, Gil, consequences or not, can't you really see how _stupid_ that makes me feel?"

For a few moments Gilbert did nothing but stared at her, carefully weighing his next words. His arsenal of good reasons was still quite well equipped, even with so many of them already presented to his miserable, slightly hysterical best friend. There were many things he could still tell her, remind her of: how she had been working in that shop for more than a month now and yet, it had been the first time when she'd made such a mistake; how the shop had been at its busiest, with students running in an out, ordering the strangest and most complicated drinks when she eventually had; how she herself had spent most of the preceding night studying, ending up with next to no sleep to keep her going through the day that followed after it.

And yet, knowing Anne Shirley as well as he did, Gilbert realised that none of those arguments would be of any meaning to her. She was too damn _stubborn_ for them to be.

"Is that what you would say to me if the roles were reversed?" he asked suddenly, making her look up at him, surprised with this new approach. "Is that how you'd react if I had come here today and told you that I'd made such a mistake myself?"

Anne's eyes were round with shock when she said, "You know this isn't -"

"You know what, forget that," he interrupted her with a wave of his hand, taking her aback again. "You and I have argued enough times for me to imagine you actually saying something of the sort, so it doesn't really take us anywhere. But Diana? What about her? Would you treat _her_ in the way you're treating yourself now?"

Anne took little time pondering over his question. As soon as she had comprehended the real meaning of it, she snorted impatiently, looking away with a scowl on her already wrinkled forehead.

"Well, first of all, Diana never would have made a mistake so dumb," she answered sharply, turning towards him once more to bestow another glare on his face. "The very notion is absurd, so I really don't think your example is a very good one."

"Alright then," Gilbert didn't give up. "What about Phil?"

"She might do something of this kind, I suppose; but I can hardly imagine her coming here to cry on my shoulder because of that. She's too strong – or too careless – to have a need for _that_."

"And you're not?"

"No!" Anne's voice was audibly higher this time, as she put down her mug with a clank, only narrowly avoiding spilling the beverage inside it on the table before her. "I'm not like her. I'm not used to people ignoring my mistakes thanks to a sweet smile I give them the next moment. I'm not having fun pretending I'm sillier than I am to appear more innocent or appealing. And I'm definitely not ready to take it calmly that my wit, my only good trait, turns out to be so much weaker that I thought it to be."

Silence fell on the room when she had finished her tirade, or at least this first, angry part of it. Gilbert, who had long ago learnt Anne's habits, knew that there was another part to come, probably even more serious than the one he'd just heard.

As impatient as he was growing, he knew he had to allow her to speak the rest whenever she choose to do so.

He watched her slump wearily and hide her face in her hands, his heart cracking with sorrow that mirrored the one that had so suddenly reflected on her. Careful not to startle her with his movement, he leaned forward and reached his hand to cover her wrist and hopefully drag it away from her face.

"I'm not Phil, Gilbert -" she said weakly a moment later, after she had eventually allowed him to do just that. "and I'm certainly not Diana, either. I'm _me._ Just me."

A sigh escaped Gilbert's lips, but he didn't let himself forget of the matter at hand. Easing his grasp on Anne's wrist, he slid his hand towards hers and covered it, giving her the little squeeze she undoubtedly needed. She looked up at him then; but it was clear she had no desire to speak anymore.

"Well, first of all, I really don't get that need to add the 'just' before talking about yourself," he said gently. "You're _you_, that's true; but it doesn't make you any worse than either of your unquestionably fantastic friends. And Anne, your wit really isn't any poorer than you think, as each of your tests and assignments confirms. Not to mention, there really is a lot more to you than your intelligence, you know."

She could hardly bring herself to do more than grumble at him. "Like what?"

"Like that incredible imagination of yours. No, Anne, you don't get to complain about it now, and even less so to blame that cursed coffee shop mistake on it. It _is_ a gift; and like almost everything else, those also tend to be inconvenient at times." He fell silent for a moment, as if weighing his next words, even though he was perfectly sure of what he wanted to say. With a quick glance to her heavy bag that now lay in the corner of her room and the stacks of books that covered more than a few spots in it, he resumed, "You are hard-working and consequent, both in your studies and any other jobs you take upon yourself. You can be determined to the extend no one I know is -"

"I believe you meant to say _stubborn_, coach Blythe -"

"Even if, then it is in the utterly positive way," he refuted her argument easily, finally letting go of her hand and reaching out for her abandoned mug instead. "It made you catch up and outshine everyone at school and now it's pushing you to do the same here. And yet, even that isn't all. Because you know what else you are, Anne?"

"I can't wait to find out," she muttered under her breath.

"You are _kind_."

The look she gave him was full of disbelief at first, and was now starting to border with derisiveness as well. It was a look Gilbert had expected; he held it calmly, aware of how much depended on his own show of certainty, of his belief in what he was saying now.

"I'm under a strong impression you no longer know whom you're talking to, Gil," she grumbled eventually, taking her mug from him and resting her lips against its rim. "Either that, or you're just quoting some great motivational speeches without thinking; to be fair, I'd prefer the former to be the case. I would be severely disappointed to find you so utterly unprofessional."

"You can call me whatever you like, _Carrots_. You know that, unlike some people, I'm immune to name-calling, especially when done by you," he answered her lightly, before saying, "Now if you just let me do what I'm trying to do here, it would be greatly appreciated. Will you?"

"Will I what, exactly?"

"Will you humour me and answer the question I asked you before? About Diana?"

That request earned Gilbert another glare on Anne's part, but she did not protest this time. Swallowing the last of her tea she muttered a quiet _"Fine,"_ before she put the mug away and breathed in deeply.

"Okay," she spoke up eventually. "Assuming that by some great disturbance in the Force or another miracle Diana Barry actually managed to mix up her orders and serve the drinks to wrong consumers, and that she would care about such a mishap enough to come to me looking for comfort -"

"You know that she would -"

"In such case, I believe I would tell her to put it behind her and not to worry too much," Anne finished with a roll of her eyes. "I suppose I'd tell her that everyone can make a mistake and that it doesn't make her any less competent, especially as no real harm was done, and that, knowing how well-organised and skilled in the field she is – because honestly, I've never seen a barrister more talented than her – we really must agree that there was some external powers at work for her to make any mistake in the first place."

"Powers like a night spent with Shakespeare?" Gilbert suggested with a smile.

"I was thinking of witches and charms but I guess the Bard is closely enough related to those," Anne admitted with another roll of her big green-grey eyes.

"Good. Now pray tell me: why do those arguments are enough to justify Diana's error but not to justify yours?"

To that Anne had no ready response. She had expected the conversation to head that way, of course; she'd known what Gilbert's plan was all along and could not claim to be surprised by this final question of his.

And yet, she could not answer him, either.

Meanwhile, Gilbert went on. "Why can't you be kind to yourself in the same way you are to her? Why are you so unforgiving towards yourself when we both know how understanding you're always trying to be to everyone around you? They say you can't really go through life happy if you're not your own best friend – so why are you so determined not to be yours?"

For the first time that day Anne laughed quietly with a mischievous sparkle returning to her eyes once more.

"I suppose I'm too spoilt by having you and Diana occupy that post with such fervour," she admitted with a smile at last. "To be fair, I'm not even sure if I could beat you if I tried."

"Well, I dare say Di won't mind stepping down for such a noble cause," came Gilbert's ready answer. "And as much as I hate not coming in first, I certainly am used to you outrunning me by now. So? Do we have a deal, Miss Shirley, or should I really call Diana to support me in that final strive?"

"There's no need for that. At least, that's what my best friend thinks."


End file.
